We're All A Little Mad Here
by TheOneWithTheObsessions
Summary: Curiouser and curiouser...Amelia Pond: the girl with the imaginary friend. She fell down a rabbit hole when she was seven years old, and she's been living in Wonderland ever since. How ever will she get back home? WIP (Not Abandoned - Promise!)
1. Merely An Illusion

**A/N: I'm not sure where this wants to go. I have another scene written and ideas for at least two more. This is not a prologue, following chapters will be in the same style. Feedback would be much appreciated, even if it's just a frowny face. ****I don't own Doctor Who and make no profit from this story. (If anything, this story owns me). Title from Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Caroll.**

_Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one - Albert Einstein _

It's raining again.

She can't see it. Can't watch the soft pitter-patter of the raindrops race down a window. There are no windows in her room. She can hear the drops as they impact on the ground outside. Splat, splash, spatter.

She likes the rain. It never rains when she's not drifting. But it's always raining when she comes back. Rain means she's really here. It means she can act like a girl again. Not like a pirate or an adventurer. She's not sure which version of herself she likes best. (Actually that's a lie, she knows. But she shouldn't like herself when she's away, so she says she doesn't – some days she even believes her lie). Nobody is visiting her today. Where is Rory? She wants Rory.

Rory does not come.

Perhaps she might stay to see the rain stop this time. See the sun break through all the clouds. That would make the doctor happy. He always likes to see her enjoying the sunlight. Perhaps, this time she can hang on long enough. Keep her grip. Perhaps...

* * *

In a windowless room on the third floor of a secure building, Amy Pond slips away into dreams.

* * *

"Daydreaming again Pond?" the Doctor asks with a smile. "Is the universe not holding your attention?"

Amy opens her eyes. She's standing outside of the TARDIS, Rory and the Doctor are looking at her with concern in their eyes. Rory is holding her hand.

"It's sunny. It wasn't sunny a second ago!" She exclaims.

Her boys exchange a look.

"Amy," Rory begins gently, "It's always been sunny. Something to do with the atmosphere here, the Doctor explained earlier. Don't you remember?"

He looks worried. The Doctor is fiddling with his screwdriver. He looks worried as well.

"Of course. I remember, I just could have sworn it was raining a second ago. Must be seeing things. Never mind me, you moron, " Amy laughs. Of course it wasn't raining. Why would it be raining?

They enter the console room. A soothing hum slides across the surface of her mind, not truly perceived, a half-heard melody of comfort.

"Right! Where to next Ponds? How about trying for Rio again? Or Barcelona? – the planet mind, not the city. Did I ever tell you about the dogs with no noses? Lovely place Barcelona." The Doctor is whirling around the console again, tweed jacket flying behind him as he spins dervish-like, hitting buttons and pulling levers like the madman he is.

"You pick Doctor. I want somewhere with snow. We haven't had any decent snow for ages now." Amy says with a smile. "Just...take your time yeah? I feel like having a nap."

The Doctor nods, and with a last glance at Rory, she leaves the main room.

* * *

Rory is shaking her awake, telling her they've arrived. The Doctor has taken them to an Ice Age re-creation exhibit. (Now featuring genuine Mammoths! The cheery sign outside proclaims. She wonders what they had before, imaginary Mammoths?)

Looking round the exhibit takes all day, maybe longer. Time is fluid here. Malleable, like clay. The Doctor is a sculptor, forming pleasing shapes she cannot admire. Whorls and dips in a dimension she does not perceive. She feels like she can see it sometimes, a mirage in the corner of her eye, never there when she turns her head. She catches glimpses of many things that she wishes she could ignore. Sometimes what she sees feels more real than reality. How is that possible? How can something be more real than reality?

Time moves on. The worlds they stand upon continue to turn at impossible speeds beneath their feet.

* * *

Faces at the door.

Judging faces.

Is she stable? Is she grounded?

They ask her questions.

She doesn't like them asking questions. _Of course I saw the Doctor today, we visited Van Gogh. I gave him sunflowers._

Nobody mentions her husband.

She asks if she can go outside.

They don't answer.

She wants to see the stars.

_What else did you see Amy? Did you see River? Or the Blue Box?_

_It's called a TARDIS! Time And Relative Dimension In Space. _

They make notes. Ink-dipped spiders run across pages, leave behind scribbles. Jargon and gibberish spouts from painted mouths. Words are problematic.

_There is a crack in the wall. Two parts of space and time that should never have touched. _

The fog is returning. Time to sleep. Breathe in the drugged air. Pleasing warmth of limbs weighted down with weariness.

_The Angels are coming._

Her eyes snap open.

_**Don't blink! **_

* * *

How do you know you're dreaming, if you've been asleep all your life?


	2. Change The Inevitable

**A/N: I still don't own Doctor Who or know where this will end up. Beta'd by Muslim_Barbie - Thanks m'dear. Big thank you to all those who reviewed the first chapter and please review the second! **

_We cannot change our past. We cannot change the inevitable. – Charles R. Swindoll_

Sharon sighed and looked out of the window. In the garden, Amelia is running around and playing a game of 'Raggedy Doctor'. Sometimes she will speak, addressing remarks to the empty air beside her. The air has a name, Sharon remembers abruptly: Mels.

'_Auntie Sharon! Mels said that her mum's going to buy her a doll house! She says that I could play with it! Can I have a dolls house Auntie? Then my dolls and Mels dolls could be best friends. Pleeeeaase Auntie Sharon, can I?'_

Amelia always had an active imagination. It often got her into trouble at school, as she disappeared into her own head rather than listening to what the teacher was telling her. That made her uniquely _Amelia,_ but made her strange and unapproachable to the other children. She didn't have many (any) friends.

_And to think I was so happy for her when she came home one day raving about her new friend Mels. She wouldn't stop talking about how the two of them were going to be best of friends forever and ever. I should have known. _

It took Sharon a while to understand that Mels lived inside Amelia's extraordinary imagination. Invitations for Mels to come 'round for tea were answered with _'Mels mum says she can't until she's done her homework' _and _'couldn't we just play at the park today?' _one too many times. Enquiries as to where Mels lived were met with _'in the village', _and further questions met with confused stares and a head cocked sideways.

_That stare made everyone uncomfortable it was as if she was looking right through you. Or _past _you._

Sharon didn't see the harm in allowing Amelia her one imaginary comfort. Children needed social contact as much as adults, she reasoned. Amelia didn't get along with the village children – it was only natural that she clung to the first real friend she had.

_Sharon sits Amelia down on her eighth birthday – after the chocolate cake has been mostly eaten (far too much for the two of them, it'll probably go stale before it get's finished) and the new doll house has pride of place in the front lounge – and tries to explain that Mels isn't real. It does not go well. There is a screaming tantrum. Amelia flings her petite body to the carpeted floor and wails, small fists pounding a staccato beat. Sharon comforts as best she can, frantic apologies tumbling from her lips, and wipes away the tears that are falling into discarded wrapping paper. She doesn't attempt to confront Amelia again._

But now; now this has been going on too long. Nine is too old to have an imaginary friend. Perhaps she should take Amelia to see someone, it couldn't hurt. Could it?

_Sharon looks out at her happy, if lonely niece, and heaves a wondering sigh._

* * *

"She keeps biting them! I don't know what to do with her anymore. The latest one wanted to put her on medication! I'm not having my niece take drugs that she might not need!" Sharon ranted down the phone, "I mean, really, it's not like it's causing her problems!"

Sharon knows the last is a lie. Amelia's imagination had been causing rather a lot of problems lately, not just because she'd bitten the last person trying to get her back down to earth.

A tinny exhalation of air sounded loud in her ear.

"Shaz, I don't know what you want me to say. I know you love Amelia as much as I love my Rory, but if the doctors are telling you she needs medication, well…then maybe she needs medication. You've tried everything else, God knows you've tried, but nothing has helped her. Perhaps it's time to try something drastic?" the voice at the end of the line offered.

The voice – otherwise known as Helen, fellow mum on the PA and life-long friend. She always was the voice of reason. Calm and rational to balance Sharon's wild eccentricity. Not that she was wild anymore. Not since the accident. Losing her sister like that, having motherhood and guardianship of a young child thrust upon her; that would tame even the most incorrigible of people.

"I know, I know. I just- I hate the thought of her becoming like Mum was. She was a zombie, Helen; she couldn't recognise me or Tabi when we visited. Even when she was lucid, she wasn't. It destroyed me to see her like that. I can't watch that happen to Amelia. I won't!"

Sharon sniffles. God! She hasn't thought about her mother in years. This situation with Amelia was brining back all the bad memories of hospital care and _'I'm sorry, but there's nothing we can do. You should say your goodbyes whilst she's lucid enough to understand'. _That **will not **happen to her baby niece. She promised her sister she'd look after Amelia, and she was going to keep her bloody promise if it was the last thing she did.

"Oh, love, don't cry! You'll set me off!" Helen trembles, "We're a right pair we are."

Sharon huffs a laugh. Helen always said that.

"Look, why don't you get Amelia to see one more doctor. Fourth time's the charm eh? And, if this one suggests medication, at least consider it yeah? In the meantime, how about we try and get Rory to come and play some day this week. Lord knows that boy needs to get out of the house. He's a dear, but I do wish he was a bit less fussed about being loud and making mess."

Sharon can hear the smile behind her friend's words. Her youngest was sweet, and definitely could learn how to be a bit more of a _boy._ Amelia would have him playing Raggedy Doctor or pirates soon enough.

"Alright, I'll ring the surgery now. You bring that boy over the day after tomorrow and we'll have him toughened up before you know it. And…thanks for listening. I know I can go on a bit sometimes."

"Ah, don't worry about it love. That's what friends are for. I'll see you on the playground tomorrow morning ok?"

Sharon smiled. Everything was going to be just fine, she knew it.

"Yeah, definitely. Bye Hel."

"Bye, Shaz"

Two phones were set down with a _click. _

Two mothers went to check on sleeping children.

But when they lay down that night, only one would remain awake, staring at the ceiling, afraid to close her eyes. Her dreams are stifling and her worries will come alive to smother her in the night.


	3. Ending Up Here

**A/N : Sorry about the wait for this, it didn't want to co-operate. Beta'd by the fabulous Muslim_Barbie! I don't own Doctor Who and Firefly belongs to Joss Whedon. WARNING: GRATUITOUS USE OF FIREFLY CHARACTERS. (It's for a reason, really!) Enjoy, and please review!  
**_  
Let me ask you a question, you never really remember the beginning of a dream, do you...So, how did we end up here? – Inception_

Amy marvelled at the design of the ship and the characters that made up its occupants. Most of said occupants were sitting in the kitchen area, drinking and loudly discussing issues associated with interplanetary travel. The conversation had taken a turn towards the morbid and depressing, after the pilot had made a throwaway comment about hating the latest taxes the government had placed on cargo ships. After a pause of tense silence, the rather brutish mercenary had commented:

"You shoulda done sommat about that while you were fightin in your _yu bun duh _war. Mind, that woulda done jack shit now wouldn' it?"

The Doctor had looked mildly offended. The pilot had looked at the captain, obviously expecting an explosion of some kind.

The captain had shrugged, finished his drink, and simply said, "I keep telling ya Jane, gorram war is over, and we're all just folk now."

The Doctor had of course been annoyed at that, launching into a speech about how war was never truly over - not if people still believed in the cause they were fighting for in the first place.

Amy had escaped, making some excuse about going to see Rory, who had been whisked away by the ship's medic upon arrival and, if she guessed correctly, was currently listening to a variety of stories about reattaching people's legs.

Amy entered the cargo bay and immediately noticed the waif-girl watching her. Not that she was all that difficult to spot, being suspended ninja-like as she was from the first level walkway.

"Hello," Amy said, after a moment of waiting to see if the girl would speak first. "You must be River. Captain said you'd be around somewhere. I'm-"

"Amelia Jessica Williams née Pond. Born 28th November 1988, in Inverness, Scotland but re-located to Leadworth, England, Earth-that-Was in 1996. Married to Rory Williams, Nurse and The Last Centurion. One child: Melody Pond, also known as River Song. Travelling companion to The Doctor, Last Time Lord of the planet Gallifrey. I know who you are."

"Um. Right. That's a bit creepy." Amy muttered, before raising her voice to a more usual pitch. "And, how exactly do you know all that? I've never met you before, not that I'd tell you all that if I had."

"It's in your head," the girl says, her tone suggesting it should be obvious; "And if it's in your head, it's in mine. I have too many thoughts, Amelia. Sorry – Amy. It's like living with a head full of bees. All stinging and swarming….causing _problems_. Nobody likes me in their head. I don't like me in their heads. But I can't stop it; it's not mine to stop."

The girl stops and takes a deep breath, before performing a flawless somersault to land facing Amy.

"And yes. I am River. Like the water in the forest. But I don't have a time-head."

"Um. How did- right. It's in my head. Anything else you'd care to share?" Amy is faintly nervous of the smaller girl, for despite her size she exerts an aura of 'don't mess with me'.

"I won't hurt you," River says, her eyes going slightly out of focus. "_They _can't make me hurt you. Not here. Here is safe, Amy. Like your bedroom at Aunt Sharon's, or like when the Doctor hugs."

"I'm not afraid!" Amy protests. _Not really. Just unnerved. _

"Okay," River says easily, like it doesn't matter either way. Which, Amy supposes, it doesn't.

Suddenly, the air thickens. Breath becomes harder to draw. Amy thinks that something momentous must be occurring, or about to occur. That, or the airlock has broken.

"Do you ever wonder if you're real?" River asks, head tilted and eyes intent upon the other girl. "I do. I used to never know if I could trust my senses, because they'd tell me I was walking in a forest, playing with sticks and that I was sad_._ But they were lying. The leaves under my feet and the bark in my hands weren't real. And now…." She trails off looking small and frightened.

"Now…what?" Amy breathes, wondering when she lost her voice.

River sighs. "Now I see myself when I look in the mirror and Simon smiles all the time and the Captain calls me albatross and I feel the metal of Serenity under my feet and hands and I'm _happy_. And want this to be real _so much_ that I can't breathe sometimes. But I _still _don't know if I can trust my senses." She says in one explosive breath, tears gathering in the corner of her eyes.

Amy cannot look away from her, although her own tears make her vision blurry.

"But then I think; it doesn't matter if what I see and feel and touch is real. Because I'm happy and Simon is smiling and the captain is calling me albatross. I like this too much to ruin it with worrying about whether it's real or not." River smiles once, gentle and soft. Then she takes a deep breath and looks around, her eyes slowly sliding out of focus.

"River?" Amy asks, hesitantly.

River turns to face her.

"The Doctor is looking for you. He's collected Rory and will be arriving here in 26.3 seconds. Time to go, Amy Pond. Pleased to have met you." River says tonelessly. Then she performs an abrupt about face and wanders out of the bay.

Amy is about to call after her, to say goodbye or ask her if she thinks she'll ever know if she's real or hug her or any number of things when the Doctor and Rory walk into the bay.

"Pond! I've been looking for you. We've got to head off, as lovely as it's been here, there's a meteor storm about to happen in the Gynama quadrant and we absolutely have to see it!" the Doctor exclaims, grabbing Amy by the arm and beginning to drag her towards the TARDIS.

Amy smiles at his excitement, grabs Rory's bewildered hand and allows herself to be dragged.

* * *

Sharon looks at the doctor. She's trying to process everything he's told her.

"Ms Carrick?" He says, bringing her out of her daze. "Are you alright? I know it's a lot to take in, but I think this really could work."

Sharon breathes deep and pulls herself together.

"Do it. Bring Amy back." She smiles shakily. "Alice has to come back from Wonderland eventually, right?"

The doctor smiles humourlessly. "Of course. You'll have to sign some paperwork to allow us to start, it being a new treatment, but once that's sorted we can begin immediately. There should be results in the next week or two."

Sharon nods. _Only a week. _She thinks. _A week until I can look at my baby girl and know she _sees _me. _She carefully blocks the little voice telling her that it might not work, and follows a nurse to sign the forms.

_She's coming back to me. _

_Amy's coming home._


	4. Restoring Normality

**A/N: This was written between shifts at work and on a train. I hope you enjoy it. I still don't own Doctor Who, and Neil Gaiman belongs only to himself. There are several references to 'The Doctor's Wife' ahead, points to the person who can spot them all (bonus if you include them in a review). Parts were inspired by Arthur Dent's experience with a bulldozer. Cheerleading/Beta provided by Muslim_Barbie.**

**Tl;dr: Not mine. Read. Review. Recommend. **

_We will be restoring normality as soon as we're sure what normal is anyway– Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy_

They're going to visit Darwin, in 1835 during his time on Galapagos – so naturally, when Amy opens the doors to see a beige corridor that smelt of disinfectant and sickness, she complains.

"Doctor, you _seriously _need to work on your driving."

The Doctor looks at her strangely. "Amy, I think you'll find that my piloting is impeccable. You're exactly where you're supposed to be," he says, slowly and carefully.

"But we're going to Galapagos. Not to some bloody corridor!" Amy says, feeling a bit unsure of herself despite the fact that she can clearly see that they're in the wrong time and place.

"Amelia," the Doctor smiles, "Look again."

_Look again. _A little voice in the back of her head echoes.

Amy looks.

Where the drab corridor stretched into the middle distance, there is now a path through trees under clear blue skies.

"Huh. You're right." Amy says, "My eyes must be playing tricks on me again."

The Doctor laughs indulgently. "Of course, Pond. Shall we?" he gestures out the still open doors.

"Let's go." Amy says, suiting word to action and heading out into the sunlight.

* * *

They're running through a rainforest being chased by an over-evolved turtle. Or tortoise. Amy's never been clear on the difference.

The Doctor is running besides her, whooping and hollering in a strangely joyful war cry.

Amy doesn't know exactly where she's running to, except _away. _As they run – the trees blur to green and brown blobs at the edge of her vision.

(Occasionally, the blur becomes the corridor, now lined with doors; but she's always running too fast to read what they say. She ignores it and continues to run, _run, RUN._)

They reach a fence and scramble over it. The turtloise cannot climb. The Doctor watches it attempt to flatten the fence with great amusement, before he grabs her hand and hauls her away.

Amy's free hand trails behind her – waiting for someone to catch it in theirs. It isn't until the Doctor tugs her hand and laughs a 'C_ome on Pond!' _over his shoulder that she remembers there is no-one to grab it.

There never was.

She runs on.

* * *

She's tired now. Tired of seeing things in the corner of her eye that are never really there, tired of the endless running, tired of having to ignore what common sense is telling her. She's just _tired._

She's going to bed - walking down the hallway that leads to her bedroom, shuffling along steadily towards warm sheets and comfy pillows, head tilted to the floor bathed in warm coral light - when the hallway flickers, like it is a cheap light bulb in a thunderstorm.

Amy blinks.

The hallway flickers again – going entirely dark for a second.

When the lights come back on (fluorescent white rather than comforting orange, she notes) there are two hallways in front of her. They overlap and merge curiously, sometimes more one than the other before separating abruptly.

Amy blinks again, and rubs her eyes.

Her vision settles, and the TARDIS hallway remains constant around her.

_Must be more tired than I thought, _she thinks carefully. _I'll feel better in the morning. _

She shuffles into her room, and collapses into bed fully dressed. She is asleep in seconds.

* * *

Amy yawns and stretches, rubbing her eyes whilst climbing out of the narrow bed and heading into the bathroom.

Once inside, she absently removes her pyjamas before stepping into the shower cubicle. Turning the water as hot as possible, she luxuriates in the steamy heat that brings her mostly awake and sooths her tense muscles.

She gets out of the shower and dresses in a pair of shapeless jeans and an alarmingly baggy jumper before turning to head to the kitchen in search of tea. And the Doctor. (But mostly tea, she's got priorities after all.)

The door leading out of the room is locked. The handle stubbornly refuses to turn.

Amy rattles it, offended that the TARDIS is playing silly buggers again and has clearly locked her in. With a sigh, she stomps to the bed, intending to read until the TARDIS opens the door or the Doctor notices she was missing and comes looking for her.

_Which will take a while, _she admits_. Better get comfortable._

She flops onto the bed, wriggling to find a suitable reading position.

_Beds got lumpy. Bloody time machine. _She grumbles.

It is only when she reaches for her book – a collection of short stories by Neil Gaiman – that she realises something is _very _wrong.

The book is not where she left it.

She halts her movements, and sits upright on the bed her hands clasped in her lap and her legs folded.

Nothing in the room is right.

Instead of her large bedroom with purple walls and a thick carpet – the one she had claimed as soon as she found it on her second adventure around the TARDIS's never-ending maze of hallways – the room is small, with beige walls and a plain carpet that looks worn thin by years of use.

_Her_ room has several sturdy shelves lining its walls, all filled with odds and ends she had collected or been given on her travels and photos of all the places she has been. _This_ room had one shabby chest of drawers that contained her clothes and had a fruit bowl (containing two wrinkled Satsuma's and a bruised apple), a plastic pitcher of water with cup, and a comb on top of it.

Where the trans-spatial window should be showing the view from outside the TARDIS, there is simply a blank wall.

Amy begins to shake as she accepts the fact that she is most certainly not on the TARDIS anymore.

The doorknob rattles, and the sound of a lock being released draws her attention firmly away from the unnaturalness of the room.

The indistinct shape she can see through the mottled glass of the door knocks twice softly, before entering without waiting for a response.

A young woman dressed in a blue uniform walks in, carrying a tray.

"Good morning Amelia! How are you today?" she chatters brightly, clearly not expecting any reply. "For breakfast today you've got a little bacon roll and a banana with orange juice. I know you hate apples. The doctor will be performing his rounds in about an hour, so don't rush," she continues, setting the tray on the wheeled table where her bedside cabinet should be.

Up close, Amy can read the name badge pinned to her uniform.

_Junior Nurse L Bucket._

The sensible flat shoes and little watch clipped upside down to her top pocket all confirm what the name badge is telling her. This woman is definitely a nurse.

Nurse Bucket is oblivious to Amy's wide eyed scrutiny, as she bustles around the room straightening the few items on the chest of drawers and continuing to chatter away about what's going to happen that day.

Amy tunes her out until she mentions a familiar name.

"Oh yes," she says, with the air of someone remembering something important, "Your Aunt -Sharon is it? - she's scheduled to visit this afternoon as well."

Amy blinks.

_Aunt Sharon? Visit? What the hell is this place? _she thinks fearfully.

The nurse is still oblivious to Amy's internal panic, as she bids Amy goodbye and leaves the room, gently closing the door behind her.

Amy stares at the closed door for a moment, expecting to hear the sound of it being locked again. When it isn't, she turns to the tray and begins to slowly eat her breakfast.

* * *

As she eats, she turns over possibilities in her mind of where she could be, and why the Doctor didn't appear to be trying to rescue her.

What she comes up with is not comforting.

Option one: he doesn't know she's missing yet. (Reasonable, especially as she was taken from her bedroom. They have enough experience with time running at different paces in different places as well. She could have only been missing for a few minutes)

Option two: this is a dream. (Again, reasonable, but even her most boring dreams had aliens or time travel featuring in them somewhere. This place doesn't appear to be in the present, and has human staff.)

_What I really need to do_ _is to figure out where I am. The door's not locked and the nurse didn't mention anything about me not leaving…_

Creeping to the door, she gently turns the handle and peeks out. The sight that greets her makes her draw in a shocked breath. Just beyond the door is the corridor in the corner of her eye.

_Not good, _she thinks.

She steps out into the open, pulling the door to behind her. _Now where does it lead? Let's try left. There's too much noise coming from the other direction. _

Amy turns left and sneaks down the corridor, flinching every time she hears a loud noise.

At the end of the corridor she chooses to go right and opens a pair of doors onto another corridor. She continues to walk down it, glancing around looking for a clue as to what this building is.

She hears a noise coming from one of the rooms on her left.

_Voices! Perhaps they'll say something important._

She creeps to just outside the door and presses her ear to the wood. The sound is muffled, but audible.

"-shame about Miss Pond, I really thought we'd have seen improvement in her condition already," a male voice says.

Another voice replies, "It's only been ten days, and you said yourself she seemed more aware of her surroundings yesterday."

The first voice: "I know, I know. I just wish I could help her faster. Everyone has given up on her, it's like they've accepted that she's becoming a permanent fixture. It's such a shame. Hopefully she'll improve some more today."

"You're a hopeless optimist. You'd better get going though, or you're gonna be late for rounds…..again," the second voice teases.

Amy registers hearing the sound of movement, and attempts to stand up and move away from the door. Instead, her jeans catch underneath her feet and she falls over awkwardly.

The door opens and a burly middle aged man in a lab coat steps out. He spots her on the floor and immediately reaches down to help her up.

Amy shies away from the man, suddenly terribly afraid.

He stops and looks at her kindly.

"Are you alright, Amy? Did you get lost? Come along, Pond, Let's get you back to your room eh?" he says in a calm and soothing tone of voice.

Amy whimpers and curls up into a small ball. The man is large and intimidating, despite his benign words of comfort.

"Amy? Can you understand me? It's Doctor Corsair. Idris Corsair. I've been taking care of you. You're safe here, I promise."

Amy shakes her head and tries to force herself to say something - _anything_.

"I….I w-want the D-Doctor!" she mutters, "W-where is he?"

The man kneels down next to her. "You're home, Amy. Everything's going to be alright," he says. "And which Doctor did you want? Shall I see if Doctor Williams is here? He's probably on his way already."

Amy shakes her head again, bewildered that he could think she wanted anyone but _her _Doctor.

She manages to speak past the lump in her throat. "No."

"No? No what Amy? Tell me who you want to see and I'll fetch them fast as I can, okay?" the man says, confused.

"I w-want _the _Doctor!" She wails.

"The Doctor?" the man echoes, puzzlement clear on his face. "Doctor Who?"


	5. Life Goes On

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait for this, RL has killed me, and all my Pond feels have not helped at all. I'm still not 100% happy with this, but after nearly a week of editing, it's not going to get much better. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. H&K's to Muslim_barbie for the fantastic beta job. As always, I don't own Doctor Who and please review.**

_In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on.__ - __Robert Frost_

_I feel so small_, she thinks. _Small and sad_. _Everything about this place is just wrong. It's all sterile and white and –_

_How does that make you feel, Amy? _

_Everyday since I got here has been exactly the same:_

_Step 1: Wake up and wonder where I am. _

_Step 2: Remember. _

_Step 3: Hope today will be the day _He_ comes bursting in to rescue me. _

_Step 4: Realise He isn't coming. That He _can't_ come._

_Rinse and repeat_.

Her days are spent lounging in her room until lunchtime, when she is forced to go to the cafeteria. She tries to avoid all contact with other people (_patients, _she corrects herself), eating her sandwich and yogurt, tucked in the corner table at the back of the room. She watches them talking to the air or accusing the Doctors of trying to hurt them or rocking in their seats, and wonders

_Was _I_ ever that bad?_

After lunch, it's time to sit on the sofa in Doctor Corsair's office, and pointedly _not _talk about the Doctor or the TARDIS. Corsair tries to prompt her with questions about the things she saw, or tells her techniques to help her remember what is real. She ignores him until her time runs out.

After a week of silence, he tells her that if she doesn't talk to him, he can't let her leave. This news is not new to her, but she's been missing Him more than usual today, because they had custard for pudding in the cafeteria, and the gentle reminder that there is a whole world outside of this building causes her to blurt out that _one time, I floated in the vacuum of space! The Doctor held on to my ankle and I just sort of _floated_ there. It felt kind of like swimming, except I could breathe and there was no resistance when I moved my arms. How is that even possible? Tell me _doctor_: how can I know what it feels like to float in space if it never happened? How do I know that _this_ isn't fake and he's not trying to rescue me? Me and the Doctor, we had so many adventures. We _saved_ people. How can that not be real? If I remember it then it has to be real!_

As the egg timer on his desk dings, Doctor Corsair smiles, and tells her that she's made progress today and he'd very much like it if they could talk more about it tomorrow.

When she enters the office the next day, he gently explains that she's been here since she was nineteen, when she had her first major break with reality. (_The day _He_ came back_, she thinks). He explains that her Aunt couldn't manage on her own and sought out help. He tells her all the details of the treatments they've tried and explains that the new medications are the only ones that have helped her in nearly two years. He shows her portions of her records as proof. The evidence before her eyes shows her that the Doctor is most definitely not real and leaves her sobbing for hours after the session ends.

As she leaves that evening she mutters _I want to go home_. Dr Corsair tells her that if her progress remains good and her Aunt agrees, she can go back to Leadworth in a month or two.

_Not that home_, she thinks, tears running down her face as she closes the door behind her.

* * *

The first time she meets her husband in this place, the meeting doesn't go very well. He doesn't hug her or smile. He looks worn and thin in his scrubs. The conversation between them is stilted and filled with awkward, too-long pauses. He doesn't ask questions, but s_he_ does.

She asks him about his life. She wants to know about _her_ Rory.

He looks uncomfortable and murmurs that he's married._ Two years next month, _he adds._ I've been a Doctor for about three years now. I met my wife in med school. _

Amy shifts in her seat and wonders what else she's missed out on whilst she's been here.

The conversation between them lulls again.

Rory coughs.

Amy looks at the landscape prints on the wall.

Silence.

_Can't we just be 'Amy and Rory' again?_ She asks, thinking of children playing a game of pirates on an autumn afternoon.

He looks at her strangely.

_We never were 'Amy and Rory'_, he says.

Oh.

* * *

She sits in the little stone courtyard, basking in the sunlight, and out of the corner of her eye she sees a statue.

An angel.

She freezes, and tells herself _It's not real, it's not real, it's not –_ _oh god Doctor!_

She stares at the stone angel for hours, terrified that if she blinks, she'll end up somewhere adrift in time.

It's dark by the time a nurse finds her shivering on a bench, and tries to gently coax her inside with soft words and _come on Amy, remember what Doctor Corsair told you now. _She doesn't budge.

In the end they have to sedate her.

Despite the medication, she doesn't sleep well.

* * *

Her aunt visits every few days. _As often as I can sweetheart, _she says as she reaches across the table to hold Amy's hand.

They don't quite know how to act around each other. Sharon is clearly used to holding one-sided conversations, and often stops in the middle of retelling the story of how so-and-so broke the kettle at the office or how Mrs Agis from down the road simply must be going senile in that house with all those cats, with an apologetic smile and a question that forces Amy to talk for a minute. Sometimes they fall silent, but it isn't awkward like it was when Rory came and sat in the same chair. It's just the silence of two people re-learning how to act around each other.

Amy only speaks without prompting once, just as Sharon is about to leave. As her aunt rises from the patterned armchair and begins to gather her coat and bag, Amy realises that she hasn't asked if she can come and live in Leadworth again.

_Sharon, _Amy calls, desperation tingeing her voice, _can I come and stay with you once I get out of here? _

Sharon looks taken aback. _Oh Amelia, _she croons, _you don't even have to ask. It's your home for as long as you want it. You're always welcome._

Amy smiles shyly.

Sharon smiles and promises to tell the Doctors that Amy will be coming to live with her on her release.

* * *

Sometimes, she sees things around the hospital that remind her of her adventures. She walks past the lounge one morning to hear River Tam talking inside. She goes in - expecting to see the waif-girl. All she sees is the beige room with only a television bolted against the wall. It's been left on, and is showing the Captain saying '_morbid and creepifying, I got no problem with, long as she does it__ quiet-like._ '

Amy frowns._ That's not right_, she thinks. _I met them, I know those people_.

Later, she mentions it in her session with Dr Corsair. He explains that the nurses discovered they could get her out of her room as long as she was allowed to watch something that featured space. So they planted her in front of _Firefly _and she was content. She simply drew her hallucinations from what she saw.

Amy is quiet at the news. _Just another thing that never happened I suppose. _She says she feels like everything she knows is a lie.

Doctor Corsair looks at her kindly. _I'm afraid so._

* * *

The hardest days are when she doesn't remember that the Doctor isn't coming. On those days, she wanders the halls, searching for a sign of rescue. Sometimes she thinks she hears him calling her name or the whisper of the TARDIS engines and she sprints towards the sound, arms flung wide in anticipation of a squeezing hug. As she runs, afraid to call out to him and lose the thin trail of sound, she always realises she isn't hearing what she thinks she is.

It's never his voice calling _Amelia! Amelia Pond! Get your coat, we're off! _Sometimes it's the PA system telling her she has a visitor. Once she followed the noise into the Doctor's Lounge, bursting in with a wide smile, only to see several Doctors deep in conversation, bent over a file.

One day, she's running towards the sound of the sonic screwdriver and she takes a corner far too fast. She loses her footing and crashes into the wall, head-first. The last thing she thinks before she blacks out is _oh God; I'm going to lose the trail again!_

She wakes up on a glass floor, bathed in orange light. There is a gentle humming vibrating through her that feels like welcome. She sits up, carefully holding her eyes shut tight, and prays _let this all be here when I open my eyes. Please, just this once. Please let me be home._

She opens her eyes; and draws a shocked breath when the TARDIS console room remains constant around her. Jumping up, she runs her hand across the console, feeling all the buttons and miscellaneous controls under her hand. She laughs delightedly into the empty air.

Wait. _Empty_ air?

_Where is he? _She thinks. _He won't have gone far. _

She's about to go looking for him when he appears suddenly at the top of the stairs.

"Hello, Pond." he says, quietly.

"Hello Doctor," She replies softly. "Did you miss me?"

He sighs deeply, "Of course I missed you Amelia. Don't doubt that I always miss you when you're gone." Shaking his head, he grins brightly and jumps down the last few stairs to land in front of her. "Where do you want to go? I was thinking Krallax, but I'm open to suggestions."

She looks at him, feeling sadness rise in her chest. "I don't think I can stay Doctor. I'm not sure why, but I think I don't belong here anymore. I think…" she pauses, afraid to say the words caught in her throat.

"You think what, Pond?" he asks, distractedly pressing buttons and twirling levers.

"I think this isn't real. I think this is all in my head," she says gently, on an exhale of breath.

The Doctor freezes. He looks up at her calm face, clearly horrified.

"Amelia! How can you think that? Can't you see me, hear me, _feel_ me?" he proclaims, rushing over and hugging her tight to his body.

She tries to relax into the grip, but something in the back of her head won't let her be reassured by the smell of the universe rising of his jacket or the warm solidness of his body.

She steps out of his embrace and turns her head to hide her tears.

"No Doctor! Stop lying to me. I can't trust my senses anymore. I need you not to lie to me! I'm not a child!"

She's crying openly now, tears staining her reddened cheeks and falling unchecked onto the floor.

The Doctor looks like he wants to argue, to push her around to his way of thinking. He takes a deep breath, probably to start off on a lengthy speech as to why he is most definitely real no matter what anyone says thank you very much, when she looks him straight in the eye and whispers, "Please. Please Doctor. For me."

He deflates, sinking into himself. With a sad smile hiding in his eyes he takes a much gentler breath and starts again.

"In the sense of the here and now," he begins, "I am as real as you are. The problem is, you're dreaming. Simply put as that is. Really, it's more of a hallucinatory experience - with a side of subconscious wishing and just a touch of a concussion. But that doesn't really matter."

He pauses, gauging her reaction to his words. She has stopped crying now, but makes no move to wipe the tear tracks drying on her face. Her eyes ask him to continue.

"I'm so sorry, Amelia. Everything you remember happening with me, it was all a lie. It was all in your head. But its okay now, you're going to get better and forget about the mad man and his box that stole you away." He shakes his head again.

Amy wonders if she is crying again, because he seems to be going fuzzy at the edges, like a bad video. Distantly, she hears someone calling her name. She ignores it, and tries to focus on the Doctor's words.

"I was always just your imaginary friend Amelia. I think you understand that now." He smiles softly, and reaches out to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. His fingers seem to pass right through the strands.

"Time to grow up, Amelia Pond." His lips brush against her forehead, but she can't quite feel it. "Goodbye."

As he speaks, the voice calling her name grows too loud to ignore. She covers her ears and shuts her eyes against the shouting. When she opens them again, she is in the hospital corridor and a nurse is standing over her, asking her if she's alright.

Nodding carefully, she gets to her feet.

_Time to grow up, _she thinks. _Time to go home._

She shuffles away from the concerned nurse, heading to her doctor's office to tell him that she wants to leave soon. She's ready to go back to real life.

* * *

It takes several weeks of steady routine and improvement before they start to seriously consider allowing her to leave. During the time, Amy remains bright and cheerful, interacting with the staff and talks about everything with Dr Corsair. She doesn't have any episodes.

She gets up and goes about her day like a normal person, which for a time, is a complete novelty to experience.

Sharon continues to visit every few days, and they discuss plans to redecorate her room.

Rory passes through only once. He is laughing with a brunette woman in scrubs. Amy watches him walk by with a sad smile, but does not say hello.

Eventually the day comes when she is ready to leave. She packs the small suitcase that Sharon bought for her during yesterday's visit. She does the rounds of goodbyes with the nurses, most of whom are happy that she's getting out.

With a feeling of great achievement, she walks out the front doors for the first time.

* * *

Leadworth hasn't changed since she left. The pond is still duck-less. The post office remains shut.

When she enters her aunt's home, she feels a wave of nostalgia. Sharon's redecorated the front hall, and it takes her a moment to get her bearings. She feels nervous, and her aunt leads her to her bedroom, chattering the whole way up the stairs.

Her room is untouched, although the bed has been freshly made. She collapses into it, somehow exhausted with the day of travelling. She sleeps without dreams.

* * *

The next few days are spent clearing away her old toys and shopping for new items to decorate her room.

When the time comes to choose a new colour to paint the walls, Amy finds herself picking out a deep purple. It takes her a while to figure out why the colour is so familiar.

Sharon comments on how elegant the rooms looks, how the colour makes the room seem bigger.

Amy remembers her room on the TARDIS. _Purple walls and thick carpet. _

Her bedroom is now almost identical, save for the various space-y odds and ends.

_Not real, not real. _She chants, closing her eyes against the onslaught of memories. _You made it up, remember? Not real._

Despite her knowing it never happened, she feels more at home than she thought possible.

* * *

All her life people have given her names. She took to collecting them, holding them to her chest like precious jewels, a reminder of all the people who remembered her.

As child she remembers mutterings of 'the kissogram' following her, but it didn't matter. The mutterings were not hurtful, just scandalised.

_He_ called her 'The Girl Who Waited'.

_Waited for what?_ She thinks.

Now names follow her down the street again. These names hurt. They call her _'the mad one'_, and _'the head-case'_ and sometimes just simply '_her'_.

But she thinks of all her names, her favourite is not one she was given, but one she gave herself.

The Girl Who Remembered Too Much.

She remembers seeing the stars, running from monsters, growing up with an imaginary friend, getting married, saving the world so many times.

But it gets hard to remember the important things. Like eating and sleeping and talking to her Aunt. But she manages. She has to manage if she wants to stay out of _that place_. So she eats when prompted and answers questions about her day and lies in bed for eight hours a night staring at the ceiling.

_It doesn't help_, she thinks, _that the important things I want to remember aren't real_.

Tucked up in bed, she sighs and rolls over, shuts her eyes and tries to sleep.

After all, real life goes on no matter what she wants.


End file.
